


Better Days

by FatalViolet520



Series: (all about) you, you, you [3]
Category: MXM (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Fluff, M/M, Summer, a sprinkle of arguably bad but still funny pickup lines, at the beginning, i repeated nct's long slow distance to write this so, lightly baked crack, slight angst, stupid so stupid tooth rotting fluff you wont even believe it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 16:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18503131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalViolet520/pseuds/FatalViolet520
Summary: When he comes home to the dark, not bothering to turn the lights on, when he comes home to the cold of his small apartment that costs way more than it should, he wonders if he’s truly made it. There is still an emptiness in his heart that cannot be filled by ambition's greed, an ache in his chest that loneliness and independence exacerbates, a want that strikes him so deep that he longs for something he doesn’t recognise until he’s in the moments between wakefulness and slumber.Youngmin wonders, once again, as he waits for the cold water to run warm as he shivers in the shower, if this is what it feels like to have made it.Emptiness, longing, pain, longing, aching, longing.





	Better Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brokenshoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenshoes/gifts).



> FOR THE CUTEST UWU IVE EVER MET I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!! i really hope you like this im so NERVOUS HSOD ASD
> 
> disclaimer i havent stanned mxm up until this point and im really sorry if the characterisation is off. i have vague plans to come back and edit this accordingly when i have a better grip on their character and personalities, but for now i hope this is still enjoyable!!

 

_we're all born alone,_

_and i'm still looking for myself_

 

* * *

 

 

The city lights flash back at him as he drives back home in the darkening night, and for a moment, he wonders if everything that he’s left behind, that he’s sacrificed, is worth it. If the long nights and endless work and draft plans that’s been inked into his eyes is worth all that he has ever known, all the safety that he had left behind in Busan. If the swap for warm sunlight and warmer soil and even warmer metal was worth the cold pen, the colder office chair and the coldest looks from his supervisors when he doesn’t quite meet their expectations. 

 

‘ _ Don’t regret your decisions _ ,’ Youngmin tells himself firmly, ‘ _ You came to Seoul for a reason _ .’ 

 

And he had. He had travelled the hundreds of miles to a bustling city that had no space for him and carved out a notch for himself, started climbing the ranks that were harsh and unforgiving and slippery and out to catch him. He had travelled this far despite his fear of being somewhere unknown and forced himself to get to know strangers despite being naturally introverted.

 

It’s terrifying, but he’s made it. 

 

Made it, because he’s working as a supervisor for the Seoul district of his company. Made it, because it’s only been 3 years since he graduated college with nothing but a degree to his name and enough money to last him maybe a half year. Made it, because he’s done so well, and now he’s taking his first long vacation since he started grinding his way up the hierarchy. 

 

Still, when he comes home to the dark, not bothering to turn the lights on, when he comes home to the cold of his small apartment that costs way more than it should, he wonders if he’s truly made it. There is still an emptiness in his heart that cannot be filled by ambition's greed, an ache in his chest that loneliness and independence exacerbates, a want that strikes him so deep that he longs for something he doesn’t recognise until he’s in the moments between wakefulness and slumber. 

 

Youngmin wonders, once again, as he waits for the cold water to run warm as he shivers in the shower, if this is what it feels like to have made it. 

 

_ Emptiness _ ,  _ longing _ ,  _ pain _ ,  _ longing, aching, longing _ . 

 

If this it what it feels like to have made it, then - it’s not worth it, Youngmin thinks bitterly. The bottle of soap on the shower cubby slips to the floor, and for a few moments he just stares at it, listens to the pour of water over the almost empty bottle, and he sighs, a deep, breaking, sigh that leaves him acutely aware of how empty he feels. 

 

He thinks back to the call he had with his parents two months ago. Thinks of the way their words were more harried with worry, the way their voices squeezed tighter with missing him, the way they didn’t want to hang up. The way even his father told him to take care of himself, sounding like he  _ cared _ . 

 

Slowly, he bends down, picks up the bottle.

 

“I’m going home,” Youngmin says to the bottle. Then, another time, louder, with more hope. “I’m going home.” 

 

It sounds right, he thinks. Home isn’t Seoul. It isn’t a cold apartment with no light, isn’t a bustling metropolitan city that won’t miss him, isn’t emptiness and strange eyes and stranger people. Home is Busan, is the stain of tomato juice on his clothes and fingers, the warmth of the sun of his skin and the warmer soil beneath his feet. 

 

He’s going home.

 

* * *

 

Busan in the middle of summer is as hot, as humid, as  _ sweltering  _ as Youngmin remembers it. Once, he would have hated it, would have stayed inside and hid himself from the sunlight; now, he closes his eyes, leans against the bus stand to take a deep breath. He’s missed this. Missed how the sun shines in alternate patches of clear sky and swooping clouds, missed the rumble of the bus that meanders along the coast up into the hilly regions where his family lives, missed the hustle and bustle of the markets that he passes and the smell of the sea that makes him dizzy. 

 

With the same impulsiveness and reckless want that had propelled him from his home to Seoul, he had come back with just as little warning as he had left. He hadn’t called ahead to let his parents know until the morning he left, leaving their exclamations with a short, “I’ll see you at home,  _ appa _ ,  _ eomma _ .” 

 

So, it is entirely fair, that when he arrives at the edge of his family’s tomato plantation that he eyes the unfamiliar man standing there warily, having no recognition of him whatsoever. 

 

“Hello,” The man says, eyes already crinkling into a friendly smile and extending his hand, “It’s nice to meet you. You must be Lim Youngmin, right?”

 

Youngmin eyes him, nodding carefully, mouth clamped shut for some reason.

 

“I’m Kim Donghyun,” The man continues, seeming not to notice how Youngmin’s gone temporarily mute. “I’m an intern working in the plantation here - your father, Lim-nim hired me for the summer.” He glances at Youngmin again, takes in his simple luggage and office-wrought pale complexion, and smiles once more. “I’m sure you’re tired, Youngmin-ssi, I’ll help you with your luggage.”

 

_ His smile reaches his eyes _ , Youngmin thinks quietly when he steps into his childhood home and is immediately accosted by his mother.  _ Kim Donghyun smiles like he means it _ , Youngmin realises over the rest of the evening. As his parents tentatively enquire how he’s doing in Seoul, Youngmin watches Donghyun running around cheerfully on the plantation, picking up the mess on the edges and making entries in the book and doing any kind of errands that could crop up. 

 

Kim Donghyun is also bright, loud, talkative and warm, and to Youngmin, it seems that everyone is enamoured with the freshly-graduated college student. Youngmin’s mother, usually reserved and quiet, gossips with Donghyun over how suspicious it is the fish market in town suddenly closed, and gives him advice on keeping flowers fresh. Youngmin’s father, always strict and stern and unforgiving, gives Donghyun smiles and small chuckles when Donghyun brings tea for him, asks Donghyun how he finds it working here. The staff that work on the plantation all know Donghyun, and Donghyun in turn knows all of their names by heart and asks them on what’s happening with them lately, bringing up something from their previous conversations. 

 

Youngmin observes all of this over a week with increasing bewilderness. 

 

How had Donghyun - who had known no one on the plantation - become so close with everyone in the precious little time that he had been here? Donghyun seems to be comfortable with everyone, laughing easily and smiling at everyone in recognition. He’s comfortable even around Youngmin’s own father, who had always been strict and reserved and the definition of Proper. 

 

Youngmin himself can’t get his father to laugh, but Donghyun can, and he’s noted all the times when his father had laughed because of Donghyun down.

 

Kim Donghyun, he decides, is magical. His smile can bring clear skies and his laugh has sunshine threaded through it, he thinks. The moment Donghyun steps in anywhere, he brings with him an undeniable sense of lightness, making everyone happy. He brings out the best in everyone, Youngmin realises, at some point, when he finds himself going out to help Youngmin when he doesn’t actually need to.

 

“You keep looking at me,” Donghyun says, three, or maybe four weeks later. “Is there something on my face?” He neglects to mention that he’s noticed Youngmin staring at him since he’s arrived here, and if Youngmin isn’t going to bring it up - well,  _ he  _ certainly will. 

 

“ _ Pretty _ ,” Youngmin murmurs under his breath, caught off guard by the inquiry. Then, realising what he said, he straightens up, pretending like he hasn’t said that. “No - Nothing. Your face is fine. It’s good.” 

 

Donghyun throws a weed he had been plucking at him. “Thanks, but try better pickup lines next time, why don’t you?” 

 

Youngmin yelps at the plant being thrown at him, then scowls a little. He hadn’t  _ meant  _ to say that, but he couldn’t help himself. So  _ maybe _ he had developed a little puppy crush on Donghyun over the past weeks he had stayed here, and it’s not like he could help himself. He doesn’t even remember when his confused, bewildered feelings for the younger started changing into the fluttering squeezing around his chest when he sees Donghyun, into his heart dropping when Donghyun starts talking and when his heart bounces up his throat equally as fast when Donghyun directs a sun-bright smile at him. 

 

Still, he thinks he has an idea.

 

Maybe it’s when Donghyun sits by him in the falling darkness one night, when the sky is velvet and speckled with stars like diamonds, bringing comfort in his silence. Maybe it’s when Donghyun gently cuts in when Youngmin is bristling, close to thorns with his father, who he can’t seem to get along with, gives Youngmin an escape route to cool off. Maybe it’s when Donghyun is easy with his affection, and continues to press hugs and attempted kisses to him in an effort to make him laugh. Maybe it’s when Donghyun looks at him, open and trusting and everything that is Youngmin’s childhood.

 

Maybe it’s when he cries in the middle of the night with Donghyun there beside him, voice cracking and tired with the burden of leaving everything for Seoul. He doesn’t even know how Donghyun had found him sitting on the porch, staring into the night lights of the town surrounding the vast plantation, the ache in his chest still hurting. 

 

“Wanna talk?” Donghyun had whispered quietly. 

 

Youngmin hadn’t at first, just shook his head, wanting to revel in the peace that being in Seoul never brings him. Donghyun had just nodded, leaned his back against the pillar of the porch, sitting facing Youngmin and closed his eyes. 

 

“Tell me if you wanna be alone,” Donghyun said softly, voice carrying with midnight’s soft breeze. “Or if there’s anything I can do.” 

 

Then he had settled there, by Youngmin’s side, no pressure, not looking for anything. Just companion, no words. The gesture had struck a strange chord deep in Youngmin’s heart, and it was then, during the dark hours that he saw a different side of Youngmin. Just as he was loud and sunny and bright, he was also soft and quiet and gentle, understanding without words that Youngmin didn’t want to be alone but didn’t want to be bothered either. 

  
“It’s difficult, working in Seoul,” Youngmin had said eventually, not knowing how much time had passed or if Donghyun was still awake. “I thought I’d be happy to be in Seoul but… I don’t know now.” He had sighed again then, a breath from so deep inside him that it rattled his heart and shook his bones, leaving a chill in his body that no amount of Busan sunshine could warm. 

 

“Are you happy here?” Donghyun had asked, almost startling Youngmin. 

 

“I don’t know,” Youngmin had confessed, vulnerable in this delicate hour, torn thin by his pain and longing for something, to be happy. “I don’t know.” 

 

There was a long silence in which Youngmin thinks maybe Donghyun  _ has  _ fallen asleep, and he’s about to slip off too, eyelids heavy and night blanketing around them, when Donghyun speaks again. “You have time, hyung. Finding your happiness isn’t a race.” 

 

Youngmin had looked over to find Donghyun already looking at him, looking sleepy but gaze heavy. “Don’t rush,” Donghyun said, and maybe this is the picture Youngmin will always remember. 

 

“Thank you,” Youngmin says, “I know.” 

 

Something had changed between them since that night. Youngmin can’t quite point it out, but he thinks it’s how Donghyun hangs over him more often, sneaks up on him when he least expects it, whines and make him come out to the field for no apparent reason other than he wants Youngmin by his side. 

 

“You know, I heard about you for ages from everyone else?” Youngmin brings up absentmindedly one day when they’re out in the fields. “I always heard about you from your parents, and even the staff here.” 

 

Youngmin hums and tugs a weed out with too much force.

 

Eyeing him, Donghyun continues. “I knew you as the Seoul boy long before you came.” He laughs a little, using a shovel to pull out more weeds, “They said you left because you couldn’t stand the farm anymore, so you took a complete change of scenery to the big cities.” There’s a pause, a long one in which Youngmin has to help Donghyun wrestle a particularly stubborn weed from the soil, before Donghyun’s resuming. “I don’t think they’re right.” 

 

Youngmin stills, the weed half-out the ground. “What makes you say that?” 

 

Donghyun doesn’t even look up as he answers. “You love nature, hyung. Anyone can see that. You come out for walks in the early mornings, and you know by instinct if the tomatoes will turn out well in this patch.” His words trail off as he becomes distracted with moving to the other edge of the plot to continue his task, humming under his breath idly. 

 

Youngmin doesn’t quite know what to say.

 

“Oh - and you plant the tomato seeds in your own way as well, and they seem grow better,” Donghyun starts again, getting back to his train of thought. “I think you really like farming, hyung. But - it’s just my opinion, you might not like it at all.” He gives a bashful laugh, throwing Youngmin a careless smile before collecting the weeds into a trash bag.

 

“No,” Youngmin says, unsticking his throat, “You’re right.” He can’t quite find it in himself to elaborate more, but he has, has always loved farming and plants and soil and nature and his childhood is all of this and more. The only reason he had come to dislike the plantation and start to want for Seoul was because of his father.

 

His father, who had made him work in the fields when he was small, calling him to stay behind when his friends were crowded at the door of his house, waiting to go play together. His resentment had grown over the years as he grew older yet his freedom was still under lock and key to be dictated free time at his father’s will. He had become desperate to spread his frozen wings, not realising how inexperienced he would be. 

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

 

Youngmin comes back to the warmth. Donghyun’s already bagged all the weeds and is starting to walk back towards the house. “Nothing. Just thinking that you’re right.” 

 

Youngmin gets to know Donghyun as he spends more time out in the sunshine, the light working into his skin as his hands work in the soil. Donghyun loves roses and his favourite season is autumn, like Youngmin himself. He has a fraternal twin brother who’s off working somewhere else, and in his free time, Donghyun likes to compose and play the guitar. 

 

“Can you play the guitar next time?” Youngmin asks hesitantly, curious. 

 

“Of course!” Donghyun agrees enthusiastically. “You could play the piano while I play the guitar, hyung, that’d be perfect.” He waits a moment, then adds, “Like us.” Now complete with a cheesy wink, he turns back to sorting the papers in the storage room.

 

Youngmin groans a little, cheeks red. Kim Donghyun is going to be the death of him. 

 

He also finds out that Donghyun thought he was rather fierce and cold when they first met. “But you’re really sweet hyung, really. You went to get me bubble tea when it’s all the way in the city centre the other day- it was really nice of you.” Youngmin’s rewarded with another bright smile, and he just mumbles a simple  _ it wasn’t a problem _ when it clearly was a deal, too mindful of the beat of his heart to say anything else.

 

The days of summer in Busan are long and lazy, but Youngmin fills them with planting and farming, for once welcoming and relishing the burn that comes with it. Maybe he doesn’t fit office life all that well after all. 

 

In between the soil that gets in his fingernails and the sunshine that settles a tan over his skin, the spaces are filled by Youngmin, Youngmin, Youngmin. The confusion he had once harboured towards Youngmin now start to evolve into friendship and almost something more. With each night that Donghyun finds him, with each day that Donghyun teases him, he starts to understand why people love Donghyun.

 

Starts to love Donghyun too, in his own way. 

 

Donghyun brings out the best in him. Like how he finds himself relaxing, finds himself being more open, finds himself laughing more, because Donghyun had broken past his shell in these past few weeks and helped him be more free. Donghyun had shown him the way to the key to his own cell, and now it was up to Youngmin to free himself. 

 

They’re out in the field again, a month and a half since Youngmin returned home, and his time on the plantation is coming to a definite end. 

 

“Hey, hyung, can you pass me the spade… Thank you!” 

 

The sun is beating down on them, but it’s not as harsh as it could be, and Youngmin finds himself appreciating the way warmth draws across the back of his neck as he bends over to plant some tomato seeds. It’s methodical and calming, how he digs a hole, plants the seeds then smooths the soil over, and he can let his mind wander to another place as he does so. 

 

It’s Saturday, and this weekend marks the second last weekend before he has to return to Seoul. It’s a farewell he finds that he doesn’t want to bid as time draws to an end. Seoul seems even more unappealing now, no warm sunshine, no hard earth yielding under his bare feet, no salty breeze or homely markets, no  _ Donghyun _ . It’s the last thought that makes his chest tighten painfully and stills his actions, so much so that Donghyun looks over, slightly worried.

 

“What’s up, hyung?” 

 

“Just… Thinking. Of leaving after summer.” 

 

Donghyun stills at that as well. “Oh. Yes - summer’s ending soon, isn’t it?” 

 

Youngmin doesn’t want to fool himself, but he thinks there’s a definite droop to the tone of Donghyun’s voice. “Yeah - Yeah. I kinda… don’t wanna leave.” 

 

“But you have to, right?” Donghyun catches on, looking up at Youngmin. “You work in Seoul now… Not here.” 

 

The way Donghyun says those words makes Youngmin want to draw the other closer, just to comfort him. Donghyun sounds a little distraught, a little lost, like he isn’t sure what he wants to do. Youngmin waits. 

 

“It’s just - after summer - I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Donghyun bites his lip, eyes casted to the ground, and he seems to curl in on himself, like he’s trying to protect himself. “I’m not like my brother, I’m not sure what to do, I don’t have a definite dream or ambition… And I can’t keep staying here as well, I need to get a job. I just - It feels like I haven’t found my passion.” 

 

Donghyun blows his bangs upwards, frustrated with himself. “Everyone around me always knows what they want, and they set out for it immediately, but look at me - I don’t know what I’m doing. I keep wasting my time and dragging out the inevitable and - I just, don’t know, I guess.” 

 

“Look at me,” Youngmin says, fiddling with the handle of the spade, “I knew what I wanted. I wanted to get away from here, but I’m not happy either. You don’t need to have a firm dream or ambition, Donghyun. It’s okay to just live as well… You might be more prepared for life that way.” 

 

Youngmin pauses, assesses Donghyun, then adds, “Besides, I think you  _ are  _ passionate for something.” He smiles gently as Donghyun jerks his head up. “Music. Your guitar. I can see how much music and composing means to you. Hold on to your passion, Donghyun, you have one.” 

 

Long moments pass between them, and Youngmin takes the time to observe Donghyun, the curve of his eyes and the flutter of his lashes; the slope of his nose and his soft cheeks; the shape of his mouth and the chapped lips. Thinks that Donghyun is everything that he could ever come to love in the future, even if he isn’t capable of that right now. Thinks that because of Donghyun, he had come to fall in love with farming again, come to realise that what he wanted wouldn’t make him happy, come to believe that better days will come, no matter how far away they are. 

 

Come to love Donghyun, though it’ll be a while before he falls in love. 

 

Then there’s a small smile stretching the corners of Donghyun’s mouth, and Donghyun’s saying, “Thank you, hyung.” It’s different from his usual smiles. This is soft and gentle, like the breaking of a warm sunset into the cold sky, like the casting of pink and orange over the lapping of inky waves onto a golden beach, like bees buzzing around the flowers and butterflies landing on his nose. 

 

“‘S nothing,” Youngmin murmurs, and all he sees, amongst the ripening tomatoes and green shoots, is Donghyun. 

 

It’s funny how someone can mean so much to him in such a short amount of time, Youngmin thinks, watching his mother fuss over Donghyun at dinner that night. Somewhere along the terrible pickup lines and equally terrible jokes, Donghyun had become part of his heart, carving a place in his heart that only his laughter and smiles and words could fill, and Youngmin wouldn’t change any of it.

 

But as affectionate as he is for Donghyun, the time they have together is not forever, summer will have to end soon. 

 

“Are you staying?” His  _ eomma  _ asks him, in the last week of summer. 

Youngmin looks at her, then his  _ appa _ , who’s watching them quietly. Thinks back to the small happinesses he had found in the field. Thinks back to his apartment in Seoul. Thinks back to Donghyun. Thinks of a life without Donghyun. He wishes his decision could be as easy as his heart makes it out to be. 

 

“I don’t know. I - I spent so long in Seoul.” 

 

“You spent a long time here as well,” His  _ appa  _ says. Once, the words might have made him prickle, and he would have made the words out to be another gate to his cell. Now, he runs the words over inside his head. He has the key to his own cell, and to stay would be freedom as well. 

 

“I have,” He agrees easily. 

 

“It’d be nice if you’re back,” His  _ eomma _ says, an almost pleading note in her voice. “We miss you out here, and it’s been so nice to have you here. You’re close with Donghyun too, aren’t you?” 

 

And Youngmin - has made up his mind, deep in his heart. He’s watching Donghyun out on the field, hair bouncing in the wind and shimmering in the sun, laughing at something one of the management-noonas are saying, and Youngmin thinks he can almost hear his laughter echoing all the way across the space of the fields into his ears. Even at this distance, Donghyun seems so close to him, and Youngmin can’t bear the thought of leaving this - warmth and happiness and  _ home _ \- for the stark cold and loneliness that he has branded Seoul with. 

 

Youngmin nods absentmindedly. 

 

It’s not a decision he can make now, not a promise he can fulfill now, but there’s hope, just like how the sun will continue to rise, and the tides will continue to flow, and Donghyun will continue to be by his side. Better days will come, and he will fill the emptiness with his happiness. 

 

He’s coming back to a new home. 

**Author's Note:**

> now that uve read this mess i hope you still like it asdasfsdfg but anyway!!!! i hope that was cute,,, i left an open ending bc realistically its only been like 2 months since they met sO 
> 
> but still pls i hope you guys liked it~~~ thank you so much uwu <3


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